yogi_binski's Xanga

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

Wed, 06 Aug 2003 23:59:01 GMT

Those goddamn Platex tampons!!! The ads say you can’t feel them, but believe me, a big hunk of plastic popping your cherry hurts like shit every time, and it’s uncomfortable to wear, too. So I’m ripping off those stupid applicators now and just leaving the cotton. It always hurts to shove those things up your crotch, but if they don’t have the applicators you can’t feel them once they’re in. This is a strange thing to talk about (TMI, as Roz would say). But it’s really been bugging me, especially because I will be forced to wear one tomorrow at the beach with Janine (yep, she’s back from OR!).

On a brighter note, I completed the writing of a total of three songs for the band I will create, EM (Elevator Music). The only problem is that it will be difficult to find musicians (I need a drummer, a guitarist, a bass guitarist, and a banjoist, as I will be in charge of the singing and sax playing). And it will be even more difficult to find musicians who will be willing to be bossed around a lot, as I have a very particular idea of how I want the album to be, and I don’t work well in groups anyway.

I’m happy. My father has a “mean” boss who may fire him. I know it’s not very nice of me to get pleasure out of hearing such things, but it’s hard to like a father like him. He makes me feel uncomfortable. If you’ve read my past entrees you know what I’m talking about.

Mmmm… Sublime. Good stuff on this CD. I am listening to one of my favorite tracks, track seven, the one about raping a little girl. I really like Brad’s voice and all the instrumentalists are amazingly in sync. And the difficult guitar and drum solos seem effortless for them. I really should be an album reviewer. I always have a lot to say after listening to a CD.

Bright Eyes is performing in the Greek Theatre on the 24^th, which is when I have to go on vacation!!! DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I almost smashed the wall when I heard that a few seconds ago online. I’m not exaggerating either. I’m really pissed. And tickets are only thirty-two bucks!!! And there are plenty available!!! But the stupid Colorado trip’s gonna get in the way!!! I want to cry. Seriously. Conor, is, after all, my idol, and has been my musical obsession for the past year. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this to arise for ages and here it is, but I have to go on a FUCKING VACATION!!! AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! @&*$)@(!^%!(*%^(*!%)^(*!&%@(*#RYFH@IU#$&@!*( $&@! $^!*(YHHNCWY@(*$@(*$%^@%^!_%^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know how important this concert is for me??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????!!!!!! No, you don’t!!! Nobody understands my obsessions and how heavily my sanity relies on them!!! It’s painful to imagine Conor’s audience of teary-eyed listeners, all trapped under the spell of his intense, haunting music with that wavering voice howling so powerfully, all without me!

Well, I figured I’d make it up to myself. So I wrote the Desapareceidos an email addressed to Conor, making an offer to play in his band on my sax (as long as he ignores the occasional squeaks) and also a marriage proposal, though he has enough shit going on in his life without scary stalker-ish people, such as me, trying to marry him. I also told him he could stay at my place any time he wants when he’s in LA, but he’s obviously going to refuse.

For his sake, I wish my dog would get away from me and find a different place to nap. And quick. I love him, but I am feeling very irritable right now. If he even snores or twitches I think my fists are going to come crashing through my desk. You have no idea how much this Bright Eyes concert thing is killing me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Tue, 05 Aug 2003 20:13:38 GMT

Zero days left! Whee! My favorite number is zero. Zero and sixty-nine.

I can't wait until college. Even though I'm freaked out about the application process (the one and only fear I have is rejection), once I'm accepted I know I will have the time of my life. I mean, it will be great. A whole little dorm room all to myself, bars and orgies every night, parties, etc. What could be better? I'd be like a kid in an adult's body.

Humans know too much at this point in time, I think. It seems as if there is little room for discovery or exploration, since science has answers to just about everything I would be curious about. That's what makes living life at this point in time so goddamn boring. Or maybe it is because I am just here all by myself shut up in this stupid bedroom.

I am wearing my neck strap from my saxophone. At first glance it looks a bit like a tie. And with my baggy-ish pants I look like one of those stupid Avril Leveigne trend followers. It's funny. I wonder what the neighbors think. They're always peering out their windows, it seems. I wonder if they're watching me right now as I type this, laughing and telling their children, "remember your neighbor? The one who openly masturbates and picks her butt and nose and pierces herself with nails and needles? She's a punk now! Ha! Hahaha!" But the likelihood of that happening is slim.

What should I write about for my college essay? I know I am thinking, like, three and a half years in advance, but the topic still freaks me out. I don't care what college I end up going to that much, but I care that I'm not rejected to too many. That would be humiliating. My brother wrote his essay already. And as much as I hate to say it, it actually was quite good. If I were on the Princeton admissions team I would let him in just for that essay. Actually, my brother doesn't want to go to Princeton. He wants to go to Harvard, I think. Whatever. Those preppy Ivy Leagues are all the same to me.

Monday, August 04, 2003

Mon, 04 Aug 2003 17:52:58 GMT

One day left!!!

My brother is off at Idyllwild Arts music camp right now. I would go there too, except it's only for "serious musicians." If I ever get good on my sax I will go there (by the way, I now can play a low B chromatic to the high F! That's every single note on the fucking instrument! And I've been playing under two weeks! I am so proud of myself!). And if I get especially good I will go there for boarding school. That would be fun because unlike Andover, the academics aren't all that serious, and it's in the middle of the woods too.

It was stupid of me to make such a big social switch at the end of the school year. Now I don't have anyone to hang out with this summer.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Sat, 02 Aug 2003 19:51:01 GMT

Three days.

*gasp* I found out that it is illegal here for gay people to have sex. If they are caught for some reason they face time in prison. That is really horrible. I think that it is morally wrong to intrude on a person's personal life like that and monitor what they can and can't do in the privacy of their own home in our own desperate attempts to turn the world into Christians. We might as well stick millions more Jews in ovens for being the way they are. Or drown more women who display witch-like qualities. I wish I could help the gay people. There are a lot of people and animals that I wish I could help. But because I'm a FUCKING MINOR, I must stay idle for these tender years.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Sat, 02 Aug 2003 19:26:41 GMT

If I were to go to Andover (assuming that by the time I apply I would have decent grades) I would probably be the only Californian hippie-ish person there, among a bunch of conservative east coast people who care about their academics. That would suck. And with my grade patterns, why the hell would I even be accepted to Andover? I’m a slacker. That is the truth. And slackers from middle-class families aren’t often shipped out to the opposite coast to an expensive, highly academic, conformist old school that only educates the best anyway. But it’s fun to dream about living off on my own for a few solid months, away from my family, to live my life the way I want to live it. But maybe I should stick with my school now. The school I go to now is pretty easy. After a lot of calculating, if I did my homework and occasionally studied for Bam’s history tests, then I would have no less than A’s. The problem is, I don’t have the motivation to do my homework and never on my life would I want to study for Bam’s history tests because I can’t stand Bam. My mother can’t either. And if a mother who is super supportive of everyone hates your teacher, then that teacher is bad for sure. If I were to stick to my school now then I could improve it, since it’s a really bad school, and thrill some colleges. Maybe I’ll start a jazz band. I hope that that is not another childish dream like Andover.

I know what college I want to go to also. And getting into it wouldn’t be as big of a stretch as getting into Andover, because both my parents went there for grad school (Cornell University). It may not be Harvard, but it’s still an excellent Ivy League school. It’s also the college with the biggest campus in the nation. It’s huge. We went hiking there once and then went to some of the college towns within it. There are some east-coast hippies there too. And I swear that’s not an oxymoron.

I am glad there are so many problems with life. They give us something to do and things to change. It’s good to be challenged.

I wrote some haikus. They’re kind of boring and meaningless, but you can read them if you like.

My chapped cheeks burn

As a silent tear

Stings my face

I sit on the small steps

To my house

They once seemed so big

I dig the blade into my wrist

And watch the red river

Flood into my palm

A tear falls

From her eye now still—

She is dead

Behind the face

Painted on in makeup

A girl cries

Stupid baby

I wish it would shut up

For I am far more hungry

I also read some haikus. I found a couple of them that were hysterical. I didn’t want to deprive you fuckers so I have included them too. The first one is by Buson (1715-1783) and the second by Issa (1762-1826).

Nobly, the great priest

Deposits his daily stool

In bleak winter fields

Just beyond the gate,

A neat yellow hole—

Someone pissed in the snow

I drew a picture on Paint. I felt no obligation to draw any dancing nudes, since my parents will not be seeing this picture. Instead I drew an angry-looking girl with messy hair and a wound on her face. I would’ve attached it here, except it’s too large.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Sat, 02 Aug 2003 03:30:06 GMT

I need some new friends. I really need some new friends. One of them asked me what erotica is. She asked me if it was a band. That cracked me up quite a bit, but it worried me too. I was tempted to say, "get a life and then you'll figure out what it is!" I mean, come on, you'd have to be majorly sexually immature or something to not be stimulated by erotica. But this person didn't even know what the hell erotica is!!!

But this person is the stupidest of my stupid friends. One time, when we were talking about last night's Sex and the City, and how what's-her-name got crabs (or is it krabs?), this stupid person said, "I eat crabs." She totally didn't know what she was saying. We were having lunch too when she said that.

I'm not gay or anything, but I think it's really sad how people are trying to make an amendment in the Constitution prohibiting homosexual marriage. I believe that that matter doesn't concern anyone but the individuals who want to get married. Why the hell should we care? We're not the ones getting married to people of our own sex. We are the ones trying to enforce Christian laws on this country, this country that was founded to separate church and state.

When I grow up I want to found my own country. A country of hippies. The purpose of creating my country will be to let people do whatever the hell they want as long as there is no crime. I will write up a constitution defining what I mean by "crime." And once everything is established I will let people live their lives the way they want to. And unless the residents of my future country are rapists or murderers or something, they won't even feel any weight of the laws. They will just feel life, which will not be distorted by any irritating rules, such as no gay marriage or the legalization of the veal crate, which has been illegalized and counted as animal cruelty in most European countries.

My two least favorite colors are purple and white. I also hate all shades of cream and pastel colors. I don't know why I mentioned that. But I love bright colors and I love dull colors too. I can't choose which of those two color categories I prefer, even though they are total opposites.

I read MAD mag just now, even though I'm supposed to do my reading for school instead. The personals in MAD were hysterical. This one guy in the personals was a recovering pyromaniac who was looking for a mature lady for candle-light dinners. That one killed me. There were some other good ones, like a hunter who confessed that the picture included was not recent, as it had both his legs in it. Ha! I could go on, but I really have to go pee.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Sat, 02 Aug 2003 01:03:06 GMT

I love the Venice Boardwalk so much it’s crazy. I have the feeling that Christine would like it too. I would take her, except she is in NYC right now. And by the time she gets back I will be in Colorado. Yep, we’re leaving for Colorado soon. It’s kind of a random vacation spot, but whatever. The trip’s gonna suck ass, because we’ll see everything through a boring tour guide, and not explore the state on our own. It’s also gonna suck ass because I am going WITH MY FAMILY!!!! I am going with a perfect, mommy’s angel brother; a bitchy, overprotective mother; and a father who has a breast fetish!!!! You have no idea how much that is going to suck. Seriously.

I want to get my IQ tested, but I only have sixty-four bucks in my wallet, and that may not be enough for a big test like that. Normally I would be terrified of having my IQ tested, but since I am such a notably horrible student my parents have tested me for so many things already (A.D.D, neurological glitches, etc…) so it hardly matters to me anymore. I mean, if the IQ tests indicate I’m stupid and useless, then I’m stupid and useless and there is no point in hiding that. My parents are very confused by me, and probably be overjoyed to find some flaw in my natural composition that is affecting my schoolwork, so they have something to blame, and some extra medication to put me on.

Bought some #2 reeds for my sax. The other reed I was using was a #3, so that’s why it was really, really firm. But the reeds I got now are nice. I can blow gently into them and make a great sound. And I can control them with my tongue. With the other reeds staccato (and tonguing of all kinds) was a nightmare.

Yearly saxophone goals:

1. Perfect tone on all octaves

2. Master scales, circle of fifths, all that crap

3. Learn to flutter-tongue (maybe)

4. Learn to circular breathe (if that is humanly possible for me)

5. Get into jazz and improvisation

I really want to go down to Mexico and get an old punch buggy, while they still have a few left. I bet in fifty years they will be super rare and worth millions, and be among the old-fashioned cars you see at car shows sometimes. Besides, I like punch buggies. They’re neat. I figure that since I’m a vegetarian and all, I might as well just go full-on with the whole hippie look and get one that I will paint a dramatic color and plaster with bumper stickers. I like hippies. And punks. And nudists. And feminists. And activists. And Democrats. And musicians. And sushi chefs. Damn, I like practically everybody! But then again, I am a to-be hippie.

Friday, August 01, 2003

Fri, 01 Aug 2003 16:26:16 GMT

I don't care how I appear to others, but I very much care how I appear to myself. I'm a bit vain that way. For example, I was looking at myself in the mirror last night (I was naked, but you probably didn't need to know that) when I realized, "aside from having hair in my ass crack and my left nipple being inside-out, I'm pretty damn sexy." I wonder if guys agree.

Friday, August 01, 2003

Fri, 01 Aug 2003 16:22:06 GMT

Four days.

I finished writing my cello solo. It is brilliant, if I say so myself. I need to find someone who plays the cello to play it. It sounds like crap on the tenor sax.

I got a new reed. Aaaaaarrrrrrgggggh!!!! Those stupid French people!!! That is the worst reed in the fucking universe. I don't care if it's imported -- it stinks, it's like a big block of useless wood. My mom says she'll buy me a new one so I don't have to squeak anymore.

I read the fourth book in the Princess Diaries. I love those books, even though not much happens in them. It's like reading a really intense, exciting, funny soap opera. The first one (the best one, I think) made #1 on the NY Times best seller list. That's a hard list to get on, and #1 is almost impossible. But these books are amazing. I was a little disappointed by this one, however, because the "special talent" thing was 100% predictable. Read it and you'll know what I'm talking about.

I've memorized every single word on all twelve tracks of Fevers and Mirrors. My brother didn't believe me when I told him that, because there's a lot of lyrical stuff on that cd. I tried to get him to test me on the lyrics but he said no. Damn! I had the perfect opportunity to show off.

I hate being in love. Really. I hate it. It's like a mad fever, except it can't be soothed by a cold hand on your forehead and a little Pepto Bismall. It's like this deep, animal-like hunger that eats away at you and your thoughts, and no matter how many times you talk to him, make out with him, or have sex with him, the hunger never goes away. I'm not sure why. I wonder if there was something missing between me and Brent. What was I hungry for? I was getting all the love I could possibly want. I'm planning to stay single for a while. Being in love is too painful. I wish I knew why, but I'm no philosopher.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

Wed, 30 Jul 2003 21:32:00 GMT

You know what I noticed about all my entrees? None of them stick to one topic. They must be pretty boring to read. But they are fun to write.

Bright Eyes has some intense pieces that are too amazing to even comment on here, but I sort of like some of their slower, gentler songs too. “Bowl of Oranges” and “Let’s Not Shit Ourselves (to love and be loved)” are good examples. Damn, I love that band. It’s hard to believe that Conor is only twenty-three. Some of the realizations he makes could take other people a lifetime. I will never write songs as good as his, no matter how long I try. Listen to “False Advertising,” “Arienette,” “Spent on a Rainy Day,” “The Calendar Hung Itself,” “The Center of the World,” “Haligh, Haligh, a Lie, Haligh,” “Method Acting,” “An Attempt to Tip the Scales,” “Nothing Gets Crossed Out,” “A Spindle, a Darkness, a Fever, and a Mirror,” “A Perfect Sonnet,” “From a Balance Beam,” “Make War,” “The Movement of a Hand,” “The City has Sex with Itself,” “Laura Laurent,” “Sunrise, Sunset,” “No Lies, Just Love,” “Something Vague,” and “Lover I Don’t Have to Love” for starters. And don’t forget to press the repeat button on your stereo after each one so you don’t miss any of the amazing lyrics. If you do that, you’ll see how this request is not as ridiculous as it may seem.

I hate it when girls wear bras that are so tight that the fat on their back gets squeezed into chunky compartments which you can see with their too-tight shirts.